It Always Watches
by KittyKatThePsycho
Summary: Escaping one's past is not as easy as it may seem.


A/N: This is just a little one-shot that explains how much Tim has suffered through the years. Any reviews are appreciated.

Warning: Violence, suicidal thoughts and depression. If any of these things make you uncomfortable, please refrain from reading. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marble Hornets.

 **It Always Watches**

There was very little that he remembered about his childhood and the little that he did remember was unpleasant to recall. All his life it had followed him- for what reason, he did not know and he doubted that he ever would. It never spoke, it merely looked at him with its blank face and then it would vanish as quickly as it had appeared.

He was five years old when he had first encountered the tall, faceless creature. He had been playing in the park, alone, on a summer's afternoon. He was unaware of the time as the sun disappeared quite late at night. His parents both worked so he was mostly left in the care of a kind, but often laid-back neighbour who would never question him extensively when he said he was going out to play. It didn't matter to the neighbour as long as Tim was home before it became dark.

He had been walking around the empty park that evening, scuffing his black sneakers against the grass and scrunching up his nose in slight frustration. He had failed, yet again, to make any friends. An older version of himself would say that it was that creature's fault that he could not have any relationships, but it was only a half-truth at best. He had always been isolated. A strange, otherworldly sound suddenly reached his ears and caused him to turn his head to the direction of the large trees that loomed closely to the park. There was nothing there.

The sound was emitted into the air yet again, causing him to wince slightly and he found himself walking closer to one tree in particular. Brown eyes peered into the shade cast by the trees and found a mysterious figure standing there. It appeared to be wearing a suit and a tie. His father wore a suit and tie, so Tim reasoned it was an adult. The closer he approached the "adult", the more uneasy he began to feel. When he was a few feet away from the figure, his eyes were wide and fear ran through his body. A blank face stared at him, head tilted quizically and its elongated limbs hung limply at its sides. He ran back to his neighbour's house, screaming in terror. His neighbour was unable to explain to his parents what exactly had happened to their son.

Things only became worse for Tim after that. The faceless creature would appear around him frequently and everyone he told refused to believe him. In the beginning, his parents merely shrugged it off as the overactive imagination of a child and merely smiled or laughed at his frantic outbursts. However, over time their amusement drifted into concern. Their son was seeing things that were not there, he kept having frequent nightmares and he became overwhelmed with anxiety which only helped to isolate him further from others.

The first time he was placed under observation was a few days after his eighth birthday. Nothing significant had happened and the psychiatrist that had been treating him had started to think that it was perhaps a phase of some sorts. However, that night, Tim had woken up most of the other patients with his screaming and his nails were bloody from trying to scratch down the door. After that, childhood became but a blur in the mind of Timothy Wright as it was drowned by endless pills and therapies.

He had learnt to fake normality by the time he entered high school and hid under the persona of the quiet bookworm. There were people in his class who did not even know that he existed, but it did not bother him. The creature began to appear more often during his teenage years, staring at him with its blank face as he bit into his own hand to keep himself from screaming at night. He was unsure why the thing instilled so much fear in him as all it ever did was watch him for a few minutes before disappearing. Perhaps that was why it frightened him so- it was as if it was merely observing him, like he was a specimen of some kind.

On the night of his prom during senior year, Tim had blacked out and woken up on the roof of the school. His head was pounding and he felt sick. Had someone spiked his drink? He would not have been surprised if one of the typical bullies had done so for laughs, but this thought vanished from his mind when he stared at his hands. They were covered in blood. Panic overwhelmed him and he threw up, grimacing at the horrid acidic taste of bile as it left his mouth. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he inspected his body for any wounds but there were none. At that moment, a high pitched scream pierced the air and Tim crouched slightly before staring over the edge of the roof.

"Someone killed him, oh god, someone killed him! He's dead!" The frantic voice of a girl echoed.

"Calm down. Who was killed?" A male voice asked.

"Wes! Someone killed Wes!" The girl's voice broke and she began to sob hysterically.

Tim's eyes widened. Someone had been killed. There was blood on his hands, but it was clearly not his own. No, he reasoned with himself. He would have remembered killing someone and there was no way he could have overpowered Wes, who was one of the star quarterbacks of their school. Yes, there was no way... Brown eyes stared up and were met with a blank face staring back down. He woke up the next day, his hands clean but his conscious heavy.

His parents, concerned as they were for their son, were happy when Tim received a letter of acceptance from the college he had chosen. Tim had high hopes as his parents drove him to the student flat that he would be renting and that was when he met Brian, his first true friend. The young man was extremely friendly and had helped Tim to pack out most of his boxes when he'd seen that they were now neighbours. Brian walked with Tim to class, sat with him during lunch and even offered to cook for him after he saw all the empty containers of ramen noodles in the trashcan. It was odd being around someone so extrovertive and naturally friendly, but Tim enjoyed Brian's company nonetheless. He thought he had finally escaped the faceless thing, but it was merely the beginning of Tim's torment.

He was alone again. It had been nearly a year after he had killed Alex, seen Jay's corpse and... killed his first friend. He had fled town, had settled in a quiet suburb miles away and had lived life as underneath the radar as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that the police would eventually notice that the one thing the missing Alex, Jay and Brian had in common was him. He did not know if they had discovered their bodies or if they ever would for that matter as that thing seemed to have the ability to teleport people. He still did not have even a vague idea of what it wanted and he had decided long ago that he did not want to find out either. Would everything had been prevented if he had never gone close to it?

Tim shook his head as he sat within his room, a cigarette held loosely between his fingers and he exhaled smoke. He had spent too many nights dwelling on the "what ifs" and he knew that it was pointless. It had happened and nothing was going to change the fact that it did. The lights began to flicker and then it went out completely. Paranoia filled his mind, but it died down as he peeked through the curtains of his bedroom window and saw that the entire block was dark. It was merely a power failure. Perhaps some thieves had stolen a few wires or the substation had blown a fuse. It was nothing to worry about, he reasoned as he made his way to the kitchen to look for candles to light so he could have enough illumination to read at least. He passed the living room and he froze as he realised there was a light coming from the doorway.

Tim approached the room, his heart hammering beneath his ribcage as he slowly walked into the living room. His eyes went wide as he saw that the television was on and a cold shiver ran down his spine. The electricity was off, so how was it possible that his television was on? What unnerved him even more was that there was nothing but static playing on the screen.

Static...

He heard a noise within the room and cursed as he realised how foolish he was to not have taken a knife from the kitchen drawer. Curling his hands into fists, he prepared to fight whoever the intruder was but when he saw the intruder his heart nearly stopped within his chest. An expressionless face stared at him, head tilted quizically.

A raspy voice that sounded as if it were drowned out by static said one word. **"Hello."**

He did not remember anything after that. Tim awoke to the sound of birds chirping outside his window and the feeling of the warm sun on his face. He groaned as he stood up to close his curtains and massaged his temples in an effort to relieve himself from the current headache he was experiencing. He looked around and realised that he was in his bedroom. A thin smile crept across his face as he thought of the television and the creature. It appeared it had all been yet another vivid nightmare.

He was about to walk to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee when something caught his eye. He turned his head towards his bed and his blood ran cold. Propped against one of the pillows was a white mask, its eyes and lips outlined with black. A mask he had sworn he had thrown away a long time ago and that was not the only thing that was on his bed. Beside the mask lay a badly scribbled note, with an all too familiar symbol of a circle with an X across it.

It had not been a dream. The creature had found him again. He felt the bile rise within his throat as he picked up the note, trying his best to steady his hands. Underneath the symbol was three words:

 **It Always Watches.**


End file.
